


My Best Friend's A Werewolf?

by dancemmy



Series: The Adventures Of Stiles Winchester [1]
Category: Supernatural, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: A closet badass, Dean is a protective uncle, Sam is Stiles' daddy, Stiles Winchester, Stiles is also a secret Winchester, stiles is badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dancemmy/pseuds/dancemmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles Stilinski is a normal teenage boy. Well, so you think. He's really not a normal boy, or a Stilinski. His name is Stiles Winchester. His father is Sam Winchester, a hunter of the supernatural. His dad settled down in Beacon Hills, but him and Dean still hunt a lot. Stiles was taught quite a few tricks to defend himself if the need arises.<br/>When his best friend gets bitten by a werewolf, Stiles not only has to be sure to guard his family secret even more closely, but make sure that his family doesn't find out about his friend.<br/>Why does this have to happen to him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wolf Moon

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is my first work on here, so I'm sorry for the suckness. I decided to do a Stiles Winchester series, which will maybe go from season 1 - 3b if people like it? I decided to make Sam the dad for originality. So, here goes nothin', and we'll see if anyone likes it. I'll try to update as much as possible, and....uh, yeah. Thanks for reading!

The day started like any other one. Stiles awoke in his bed, in an odd position. He ran downstairs and got a cup of coffee, his dad then came and plucked the cup out of his hand. Stiles glanced over his shoulder to give him a halfhearted glare. His dad replaced the coffee cup with a cup of juice, and patted Stiles' head. “Dad! I wanted coffee!” He complained, a twinge of a whine in his voice.

 

"You're hyper already, buddy. No coffee for you." His dad replied.

 

Before Stiles could retort, his uncle, Dean bounded down the stairs, “SAMMY! Come upstairs, I got somethin' to show ya- oh hey, kiddo.”

  
  


Stiles rolled his eyes, knowing his uncle was probably either excited about a new burger joint he found, or a new hunt. A small part of Stiles was hoping it was a hunt, because then he’d be home alone for a week, and he and Scott could have a sleepover at _his_ house for once. “Hey, Dean. G’morning.”

 

Dean smiled at his nephew, and said, “C’mon, Sammy. I ain’t got all day!”

* * *

 

Turned out, it was a hunt. Dean and Sam wouldn’t tell Stiles what they were hunting, or who was killed, or anything like that. They never do, they wanna keep him out of the life as much as possible. It’s understandable, after all, from what Stiles knew, it was a pretty jacked up life. Both Dean and his father have died….a few times. But, there’s no need to go down that train of thought.

 

Sam and Dean had packed up the Impala by sundown, and were ready to hit the road. Sam pulled Stiles to the side, “Stiles, you stay out of trouble while we’re gone, you got it? I’ve called Sheriff Stilinski and he’s gonna check on you once a day for the whole week we’re gone. Get to school on time, be careful while driving, and _no coffee_.”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, and slowly nodded, “Got it, daddio. Just come back in one piece. Tell Dean that goes for him too.” He hugged his dad, and then they were off. Stiles now had a week all to himself, and he can’t wait to see what he can get up to.

 

* * *

 

Sheriff Stilinski, or Stiles’ fake dad, came over that night.  He sat with the boy, and made sure he ate some dinner. They were sitting, and having a nice chat. The sheriff is actually a pretty cool guy, ya know, for being law enforcement and all. In the middle of their conversation, mister Stilinski gets a call on his radio, telling him about a body found in the woods by two joggers. _Half_ of a body to be exact. The sheriff stood up, “Sorry I have to cut this short, Stiles, but, duty calls.”

 

Stiles slowly nodded, “Nah, don’t sweat it, I understand.”

  
After sheriff Stilinski left, Stiles’ face broke out into an evil grin. He ran to his phone, and called his best friend, Scott McCall, about a hundred million times. Of course, the stupid boy didn’t pick up. Stiles sighed, and decided he wouldn’t give up that easy. He’d go to his best friend’s house to get a buddy to go searching for this other half of the dead body.

* * *

When Stiles got to his best friend’s house, he climbed up onto the roof of the little deck area, lying in wait. He’s pretty sure Scott’s mother left for work already, but you can never be too careful.

 

When he saw the figure of his best friend, he dropped down, upside down. Scott had a bat and he had it poised to swing. Stiles gave out a shout, then Scott copied, causing Stiles to scream again, and then _Scott_ screamed again. After Scott realized who it was, he yelled, “ _STILES_ , what the hell are you doing?!”

 

“You weren’t answering your phone!” Stiles responded, “Why d’ya have a bat?”

 

“I thought you were a predator!” Scott replied, his arms going out in a blatant what-the-hell gesture.

 

“A pre-?!” Stiles scoffed, and rolled his eyes, “Listen, I know it’s late, but you gotta hear this! I saw my dad leaving twenty minutes ago, they’re bringing in every Beacon officer and even _state police._ ” Usually lying to Scott by saying ‘my dad’ in reference to the Sheriff would dampen his spirits, but not right now. Right now, he’s too damn excited and gitty.

 

“For what?” Scott asked in an annoyed tone.

 

“Two joggers found a body in the woods,” Stiles dropped down from his spot up on the roof, down onto the ground. He sometimes wondered how people never questioned how he could do some of these things. He guessed they just all were idiots.

 

“A dead body?!” Scott exclaimed, leaning over the porch railing.

 

Stiles popped up, putting his hands on the rail, surprised by his friend’s idiocy, “No, a body of water. Yes, dumbass, a dead body!” He then pushed himself up onto the rail, and over the side of it, to join the puppy dog eyed boy on the porch.

 

“You mean, like, murder?” Scott was starting to sound kinda intrigued now. _Good._

 

“Nobody knows yet. Just that it was a girl, probably in her twenties.” Stiles replied, making gestures with his arms.

 

“Hold on! If they found the body, then what the hell are they looking for?”

 

Stiles grinned, holding up a hand in a wait-for-it gesture, “That’s the best part!” Stiles paused for dramatic effect, only getting a please get on with it look from his best friend. “They only found _half._ ” He grinned and held up a flashlight, “We’re going.”

 

* * *

The two boys climbed into Stiles’ jeep, and drove to the Beacon Hills Preserve. The sign says ‘no entry after dark’, but, Stiles’ dad and uncle were the FBI’s Most Wanted at one point, he really doesn’t care about getting caught trespassing.

 

When he parked the jeep and climbed out, he heard Scott do the same, and then start whining. “Are we seriously doing this?”

 

Stiles rolled his eyes, looking over at his best buddy, “You’re the one always bitching that nothing ever happens in this town!” He placed a pat to his best friend’s shoulders, and headed into the preserve, flashlight in hand.

 

“I was trying to get a good night’s sleep before practice tomorrow.” Scott replied, before reluctantly following the hyperactive teen.

 

“ _Right_ , because sitting on the bench is such a grueling effort!” Stiles just had to make smartass remarks. It was from being around Dean all his life.

 

“No, because I’m playing this year. In fact, I’m making first line!”

 

“ _Heyyyyy,_ that’s the spirit! Everyone should have a dream, even a pathetically unrealistic one.”

 

Both boys laughed at Stiles’ friendly jab at his friend’s ribs, but then Scott started his bitching again. “Just outta curiosity, which half of the body are we looking for?”

 

Wait, shit, Stiles didn’t actually know that. “Huh…..I didn’t even think about that.”

 

“And uh, what if whatever killed the body is still out here?”

 

…..Okay, that is also a valid point. “Also something I didn’t think about!”

 

“It’s comforting to know that you planned this out with your usual attention to detail.”

 

“I know!”

 

Scott started gasping for breath, and took out his inhaler, “You don’t think that the severe asthmatic should be the one holding the flashlight, huh?”

 

 _For God’s sake, this kid doesn’t stop bitching,_ Stiles thought to himself. He suddenly saw the cops, and laid himself flat on the ground, hiding. Oh shit. “Okay, c’mon!” He whispered to Scott, before he got up and just took off running.  He could hear Scott yelling for him, and telling him to wait up, but he kept going.

 

The sound of a dog barking and growling startled him off of his feet, and he was on his back on the ground. “Hold it right there!” A police man yelled at him.

 

“Hang on! Hang on!” Sheriff Stilinski? Oh, thank god. “This little delinquent belongs to me.” Thank the Lord for fake daddies.

 

“Dad, how’re you doing?” Stiles said, shielding his eyes from the flashlight that was being pointed at him.

 

“So, do you listen in to all of my phone calls?”

 

“No! Well, not the boring ones!”

 

The sheriff rolled his eyes, typical _Stiles I Am Not Taking Your Shit_  look making its way on his face, “And where is your usual partner in crime?”

 

“Scott? Scott’s home. It’s just me…..in the woods…..alone.” Stiles wasn’t even buying what he was selling at this point.

 

The Sheriff started swinging his flashlight back and forth, yelling “SCOTT, ARE YOU OUT THERE?! SCOTT?!” No answer. Thank you, Scott. Mister Stilinski grabbed Stiles by the back of the neck and said, “Well, young man, you and me are gonna go home, and we’re gonna have a little talk about something called _invasion of privacy._ ”

* * *

 

The sheriff brought Stiles home, and didn’t say a word to him. Stiles felt sorta bad, but, he really felt like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. It’s the family business to find dead bodies. Ya know what, whatever. He slowly trudged up the stairs, and rolled into bed. He’d check on Scott tomorrow.

 


	2. Wolf Moon (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, I know! You’re a werewolf! Rawr!” There was a small pause, and Stiles felt like he had to announce that he was kidding. Even though, there was a twinge of worry. He didn’t need to see his best friend shot in the head by his dad, or his uncle. “Okay, obviously I’m kidding. But, if you see me in shop class melting all the silver I can find, it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

_Previously on “My Best Friend’s A Werewolf?”: The sheriff brought Stiles home, and didn’t say a word to him. Stiles felt sorta bad, but, he really felt like he wasn’t doing anything wrong. It’s the family business to find dead bodies. Ya know what, whatever. He slowly trudged up the stairs, and rolled into bed. He’d check on Scott tomorrow._

**_Now:_ **

 

Stiles drove up to his own personal hell. Or, as most people call it: school. He climbed out of his jeep, and bounced over to his best friend. Scott then started telling him about what happened in the woods. All he could make out was that he got bitten by an animal. Alarm bells. No, probably nothing. When Scott calmed down, Stiles gestured at his friend’s body. “Okay, let’s see this thing!”

 

Scott lifted up his shirt, showing a large and bloody bandage. Stiles flinched in sympathy and then bent down to touch it. Scott slapped his hands away. Stiles couldn’t help but feel like he should be _looking at it._ Something is up. If there was one thing he’s learned from his dad? It was ‘trust your instincts’. “Soooo, what did you say bit you?” Stiles asked, hiding his worriedness with curiosity.

 

“It was too dark to see much, but I’m pretty sure it was a wolf,” Scott replied.

 

“A wolf bit you?” Stiles raised an eyebrow. “No, not a chance.”

 

“What do you mean?! I know what I saw!” Scott had a hint of a whine in his voice.

 

“No, you don’t. There are no wolves in California.” Stiles informed his friend, with an annoyed expression. That was something he assumed everyone knew. Obviously, he knew some useless facts; but that wasn’t one of them!

 

Scott, seemingly oblivious to the other teen’s annoyance, continued on, “Well, if you don’t believe me about the wolf, then you definitely won’t believe me when I tell you that….I found the body.”

 

All worry left Stiles’ system as fast as it came. He felt excitement replace it. He knew what his dad would say right now. Something along the lines of; _‘Stiles, no. Don’t get excited over dead bodies’_. But, honestly? He didn’t give a crap. “What?! That is friggin’ awesome. This is seriously gonna be the best thing to happen to this town since….” A girl with a head of strawberry blonde hair breezed past. “Since the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey, Lydia! You look…..like you’re gonna ignore me!”

The girl didn’t even spare Stiles a glance, she just walked past. Like always, Stiles feels a crushing feeling in his chest. He’s had a crush on Lydia for as long as he can remember! Yet, she has always ignored him. Dean always said ‘don’t let a chick get you down, kiddo’. Yet, he couldn’t help it.

 

 _Stiff upper lip, Stiles._ He thought to himself. He turned to Scott, and decided to do what he did best. Channel every bad thought and feeling into humor. “You’re the cause of this, you know,” He told the other boy, as they both started walking.

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“Dragging me down into your nerd depths.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

“I’m a nerd by association. I’ve been Scarlett Nerded by you”

 

The two best friends walked into the doors of the school, and all Stiles could think was: _Here we go._

* * *

 

Stiles and Scott walked into their first class of the day, taking seats as close to each other as they could. A teacher (who identified himself as Mister Greene) was writing on the board. Mister Greene had short, brown hair, and glasses. He was wearing a sweater vest, (Really, dude? Sweater vest?), khaki pants, and glasses.

 

Suddenly, Mister Greene (or, sweater vest man) started talking. “As you all know, there was indeed a body found in the woods last night.” Stiles aimed a wink at Scott, as the teacher continued on, “And I am sure your eager little minds are making up various, macob scenarios as to what happened. But, I am here to tell you that the police have a suspect in custody. Which means, that you can give your undivided attention to the syllabus, which is on your desk outlining this semester.”

 

Stiles looked down at the piece of paper on his desk. It sort of swam in and out of focus. So. Boring. A door opened and Stiles’ head snapped up. A man with dark skin, dressed in a suit, walked in with a pretty girl with dark hair. “Class, this is our new student, Allison Argent. Please do your best to make her feel welcome,” The man announced to the class.

 

The girl -- _Allison Argent_ \-- walked past Stiles straight to the seat behind Scott. Stiles gave her a nod, turning back to his syllabus. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Scott giving Allison a pen.

 

 _….Please let that be a lucky guess_ , Stiles thought to himself, since he hadn’t seen Allison actually ask for a pen.

 

That was when Mister Greene decided to speak up, “We’ll begin with Kafka’s metamorphosis on page thirty-three.” Stiles had to turn back to his schoolwork, forcing all of the worry for his friend out of his mind. He was probably overreacting, anyway.

 

* * *

After class, Scott had to go to his locker. Stiles, like the wonderful friend he _is_ , followed his friend. As Scott was opening his locker, Stiles leaned against the lockers beside it. Soon, they were approached by a darker-skinned girl, with dark hair. Her name was Theresa, if Stiles remembered correctly.

 

“Can someone tell me how new girl is here all of five minutes and she’s already hanging out with Lydia’s clique?” Theresa asked, jealousy clear in her tone.

 

“Cause she’s hot? Beautiful people herd together,” Stiles replied.

  
Well, he’d thought it was a perfectly acceptable answer. Theresa, on the other hand, did not. The two started arguing, oblivious to the fact that Scott had completely zoned out. Well…..Stiles was only half oblivious to that fact.

* * *

 

Hours later, at the end of the school day in fact, Winchester and McCall run up the lacrosse field; wearing their red _Beacon Hills High_ uniforms, helmets tucked under their shoulder. Stiles was trying desperately to get Scott to _not go for first line._

 

“But, if you play, I’ll have nobody to talk to on the bench! And are you really gonna do that to your best friend?!” Granted, that wasn’t the best line. Not by a long shot. But, he was running out of ideas here.

 

“I can’t sit out again, my whole life is sitting on the sidelines! This season, I make first line!” Scott replied, running off.

 

Stiles sighed, plopping down on the bench. He spied Coach talking to Scott, and rolled his eyes. This was humiliation waiting to happen. He, to make Scott feel better about not being able to do it, purposefully made himself seem awful. But, in reality, if he really tried? He’d be able to make first line _easy._

 

He saw Scott going to the goal and his eyes widened in horror. _Oh no, this is humiliation waiting to happen!_ He thought.

 

The whistle blew, and Scott doubled over. Okay, he probably just got scared. He then got whacked in the face with the ball. Stiles flinched sympathetically, shaking his head. He knew this would happen.

 

Scott got up, which Stiles knew he would. His best friend would never let a ball to the face get him down. What happened next was what surprised Stiles. Scott saved the next one.

 

And the one after that.

 

And _every single one._

 

At the end of a totally incredible save, Stiles shot up, cheering. He was proud of Scott. “That’s my friend!” He yelled, hoping everyone heard. He’d never been prouder of him.

 

* * *

After school, Stiles drove himself and Scott to the woods to look for the curly headed teen’s inhaler. They started stumbling through the woods, side by side. His dad always insisted Stiles stay out of the preserve, but he never listened. Ever.

 

They came to a small lake of water. There was a bridge over it, but the boys said ‘screw it’ and stomped through the water; their pants, shoes, and socks getting soaked.

 

Beforehand, they had been having a conversation about the _epicness_ of Scott on the field. Scott seemed to decide that he wanted to pick that conversation back up, “I don’t know what it was. It was like, I had all the time in the world to catch the ball! And, that’s not the only weird thing. I mean, I can hear things I shouldn’t be able to hear! Smell things!”

 

Stiles shook his head. He was worried for his best friend. “Smell things? Like what?”

 

“Like the mint mojito gum in your pocket.”

 

Stiles started fiddling around in his pockets, hoping to god he didn’t have any of that. “I don’t even have any mint mojito--” He pulled out a piece of….mint mojito gum. Scott waved his arms, and Stiles got a sinking feeling in his chest. “So, all this started with a bite?”

 

“What if it’s an infection? Like, my body’s flooding with adrenaline before I go into _shock o_ r something?!” Figures. Scott was always worrying about the wrong things.

 

Oh well, the best thing Stiles could possibly do? Turn this into a joke. He was sure he was jumping to conclusions, anyway. “Actually, you know what? I think I’ve heard of this. It’s a specific kind of infection.”

 

“Are you serious?” Scott asked, freezing in place.

  


“Yeah. I think it’s called…..lycanthropy!”

 

Stiles had a goofy grin, but his friend either didn’t know what lycanthropy was, or was too nervous to recognize it. “What’s that? Is that bad?”

 

“Oh, yeah, it’s the worst. But, only once a month.”

 

“Once a month?”

 

“Mmhm, on the night of the full moon.” Stiles paused, waiting for his friend to get it. He didn’t. Stiles rolled his eyes and made a howling noise. Scott pushed Stiles, making the more gangly of the two stumble, and let out a laugh, “Hey, you’re the one who heard a wolf howling!”

 

Scott gave Stiles a completely unimpressed look, trudging on, “There could be something seriously wrong with me!”

 

“Yeah, I know! You’re a werewolf! Rawr!” There was a small pause, and Stiles felt like he _had_ to announce that he was kidding. Even though, there was a twinge of worry. He didn’t need to see his best friend shot in the head by his dad, or his uncle.

“Okay, obviously I’m kidding. But, if you see me in shop class melting all the silver I can find, it’s because Friday’s a full moon.”

The boys came to a stop at an empty patch of leaves. Scott groaned, staring at it’s obvious emptiness with a look of hopelessness. “I could’ve swore this was it! I saw the body, the deer came running, I dropped my inhaler.” He stooped down and started looking through the leaves, desperately.

 

“Maybe, the killer moved the body.” Stiles suggested.

 

“If he did, I hope he left my inhaler. Those things are like…..eighty bucks.” Scott shook his head two or three times, before going back to searching the leaves.

 _Yeah, nice, Scott. Your priorities are so right. I mean, who cares about murder? Obviously, it wouldn’t matter more than eighty bucks!_ Stiles thought, sarcastically. He loved Scott, really, he did. But, sometimes…..he wondered about him.

When Stiles glanced up, there was a man standing there. If he hadn’t been so used to Castiel just randomly popping up? He’d have jumped out of his skin. The man is dressed all in black, including a leather jacket. Hopefully, this wasn’t a serial killing maniac from hell. Knowing his luck, and his genetics? It might actually be.

 

He slapped his friend on the back, a way of telling him to _stand the hell up_! When his friend did straighten up, the man started walking over to them. “What are you doing here? Huh? This is _private property_.”

 

 

“Uh, sorry, man. We didn’t know.” Stiles replied. Okay, so not a serial killing maniac from hell. Maybe not. Probably not.

 

“Yeah, we were just looking for something, but…..” Scott started to say. When he trailed off, the man twitched his eyebrows. That’s when Scott finished with; “Forget it.”

 

Stiles finally realized who was standing in front of them. _Derek friggin’ Hale_. Derek, tossed something at Scott. Scott caught it, and slowly opened his hand. It was his inhaler! Before anybody could say anything else, Hale was walking away….and he was gone.

 

“C’mon, man. I gotta get to work,” Scott said turning around.

 

Stiles placed a hand on Scott’s chest, stopping him from moving any further. “Dude! That was _Derek Hale_! You remember, right? He’s only like a few years older than us.”

 

“Remember what?”

 

“His family, they all burned to death in a fire like…. _ten_ years ago.”

 

“Wonder what he’s doing back.”

 

Stiles shrugged his shoulders, knowing that he was sure as hell checking _that_ out. He then turned around, aiming a ‘c’mon’ in Scott’s direction, before wandering off, back to his jeep.

* * *

 

That night, with the rain pounding at his window, Stiles attempted to hack into the police computer system. He knew he could do it. His dad had done it enough times.  His fingers flew across the keys. The boy wouldn’t have moved even if a killer bust into his bedroom.

A few hours, a sore back, and a gigantic headache later, he was in. He grinned, pumping his fist in the air. He then focused back on his laptop again. He went onto the files on the most recent Jane Doe. He didn’t wanna know. He had to know.

 

Fiber analyses on animal hair. Not viewed yet. He clicked on it, his tongue darting out to scrape along his lips. He read through it, and they found….wolf hair.

 

His stomach dropped. He felt sick. No. No, no, no, no, no, no. No way. _No_. This wasn’t happening.

 

His phone buzzed, and he picked it up, feeling queazy. It was a text from his dad. _“Hey bud. Just checking in. How’s everything?”_

 

Everything was awful. Everything was collapsing around him. He was supposed to stay away from stuff like this. Best not to worry his dad, though. _“Everything’s great :D!”_ He sent back, laying his phone down.

 

He had to figure out something, and fast.

 

* * *

Stiles couldn’t sleep well that night. Every time he dozed off, he dreamt of Dean shooting Scott. Always Dean. Sometimes, though, his dad featured in the dream; holding him back. He wouldn’t let him try to save his best friend.

 

So, the next day at the lacrosse tryouts, he ran over to the boy he swore to protect when he was just a child, “SCOTT!” He yelled, grabbing him. Quickly, he made up a lie. Now wasn’t the time for familial confessions, or confessions of hidden skills. “I overheard my dad on the phone--”

 

“I’m playing first elimination man, can this wait?” Scott asked. He didn’t get it! This _couldn’t_ wait! This could very well be his life.

“--The fiber analysis came back on the animal hairs found on the body in the woods!”

 

“Stiles, I gotta go, man.” Scott turned away from his friend.

 

“Wait, SCOTT! You’re never gonna guess what the animal was!” Stiles tried, but the other boy was gone. “ …..It was a wolf.” He muttered the last bit to himself.

 

The youngest Winchester slowly trudged his way to the bench. Maybe he was wrong! C’mon, it was a possibility. Maybe, it was a normal wolf. This all could be a coincidence.

When he saw Scott do the incredible moves on the field? All hope of a coincidence dissipated before his eyes. He swore, he could see the cloud of hope blow away. Tears stung his eyes, and he realized that he had to find a way to show Scott what really happened to him, prove it in some way before the full moon. Get control of it before he got himself killed.

 

* * *

When he got home, instead of sleeping, he gathered up every book on werewolves that his family owned (which was a lot. ‘Know your enemy’ and all that), and fired up Google. He needed to print some stuff out to show Scott. Let him know what was going on.

 

The first thing he searched, was _‘Lycaon.’_

 

_“In[Greek mythology](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_mythology), Lycaon[[pronunciation?](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wikipedia:Manual_of_Style/Pronunciation)] was a king of [Arcadia](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Regions_of_ancient_Greece#Arcadia), son of [Pelasgus](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pelasgus) and [Meliboea](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meliboea), who in the most popular version of the myth tested [Zeus](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeus) by serving him the roasted flesh of a guest from Epirus in order to see whether Zeus was truly omniscient. In return for these gruesome deeds Zeus transformed Lycaon into the form of a [wolf](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gray_wolf), and killed Lycaon's fifty other sons with lightning bolts; the slaughtered child, [Nyctimus](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nyctimus), was restored to life.[[1]](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lycaon_\(Arcadia\)#cite_note-1)”_

 

Alright. That may not help him too much, but, it might. Next, he searched up _“Wolfsbane”_.

 

_“The common name for the 250 plants of the[genus](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=genus) [aconitum](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=aconitum), also known as [aconite](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=aconite), [monkshood](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=monkshood), the [Devil's helmet](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Devil%27s%20helmet), or (disturbingly) wifes bane. A highly [poisonous](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=poisonous) flowering plant closely related to [buttercup](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=buttercup)s, the toxins can easily soak through the skin. Wolfsbane kills quickly (within six hours of consumption) and the symptoms are almost immediate: [vomit](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=vomit)ing and diarrhea, followed by a sensation of burning, tingling, and numbness in the mouth and face, and of burning in the abdomen. In severe poisonings, pronounced motor weakness occurs and cutaneous sensations of tingling and numbness spread to the limbs. Heart, lung, and organ failure soon follows._

_Wolfsbane has been ascribed with supernatural powers in the mythology relating to the[werewolf](http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=werewolf) and similar creatures, either to repel them, relating to wolfsbane's use in poisoning wolves and other animals, or in some way induce their transformation, as wolfsbane was often an important ingredient in witches' magic ointments. In folklore, wolfsbane was also said to make a person into a werewolf if it is worn, smelled, or eaten. They are also said to kill werewolves if they wear, smell, or eat aconite.”_

He printed that out as well, and then searched up _‘Silver bullet’._

_“In folklore, a[bullet](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bullet) cast from [silver](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver) is often the only weapon that is effective against a [werewolf](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Werewolf), [witch](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Witch), or other [monsters](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monster). Sometimes (not always) the silver bullet is also inscribed with Christian religious symbolism, such as a cross or the initials "J.M.J" (Jesus, Mary, & Joseph).” _

 

Well, that was definitely the least informative article ever. Stupid Wikipedia. Oh well, he wasn’t supposed to know anything about the topic. He shook his head, staring blankly at the screen. He felt like he could throw up.

 

A knock at the door startled him. He looked at his laptop, then back to the door, and slammed his laptop shut. He then got up, and shakily walked over to the door. When he opened it, he saw his goofy, curly-haired friend. “Get in. You gotta see this. I’ve been up all night, reading. Websites, books, all this stuff!” He pulled Scott inside, hoping the other would understand the severity of the situation. He sat back down in his desk chair, his hands shaking slightly.

 

“How much Adderall have you had today?” Scott raised an eyebrow at the frantic boy, looking somewhat amused.

 

Stiles hesitated, and then answered, “A lot? Doesn’t matter! Just listen.”

 

Scott threw his school bag on Stiles’ bed and then sits on it, “Is this about the body? Did they find out who did it?”

 

“No, they’re still questioning people. Even Derek Hale.”

 

“Oh, the guy in the woods that we saw the other day.”

 

“Yeah! But, that’s not it, okay?!” _Scott, please listen. Please. I need you to live. I can’t watch you die. I won’t let you die alone, either. If I have to, I’ll shoot you myself, but please don’t make me do that. Scott._ Stiles’ thoughts were circling around his friend’s problem. They needed to get a handle on this.

 

“Then, what is it, then?” Scott didn’t get it. Scott never got it, damnit!

 

“Remember the joke from the other day? Not a joke anymore.” The emotionally compromised teen stood up, and started pacing back and forth, “The wolf, the bite in the woods! Do you even know why a wolf howls?!”

 

“..........Should I?”

  
  
“It’s a _signal_ to tell its location to the rest of the pack. That means if you heard a wolf howling, that means that others could’ve been nearby. Even a whole pack of ‘em!”

 

“A whole pack of wolves?”

 

“No, werewolves.”

 

Scott stood himself up, and Stiles knew….he just knew that his friend didn’t believe him, “Are you seriously wasting my time with this?! You know I’m picking up Allison in an hour!”

 

“I saw you on the field today, Scott. What you did on the field today….It wasn’t just amazing. It was impossible.” Stiles was practically begging him, _just listen._

 

So, I made a good shot!” Scott wasn’t hearing him. Not at all.

 

Stiles snapped, his voice raised slightly, “No, you made an _incredible shot!_ I mean, the way you moved; your speed, your reflexes? People can’t just suddenly do that overnight! And then there’s the _vision_ , and the _senses_ , and don’t think that I haven’t noticed that you don’t need your inhaler anymore!”

 

“Okay, dude! I can’t think about this now! We can talk about this tomorrow.”

 

“Tommorow?! What?! No! The full moon’s tonight! Don’t you get it?!” Of course he didn’t get it, Stiles knew that some people couldn’t handle stuff like that. But, he had to get it through Scott’s _thick skull._

 

 

“What are you trying to do?! I just made first line, I got a date with a girl who I can’t believe wants to go out with me, and everything in my life is somehow perfect! Why are you trying to ruin it?”

 

“I’m trying to help. You’re cursed, Scott. And it’s not just that the full moon will cause you to change, it also happens to be when your blood lust is at its peak.”

 

“Blood lust?” Of course, that would be the one thing Scott picked to question out of all that Stiles was saying.

 

“Yeah, your urge to kill.”

 

“I’m already starting to feel an urge to kill, Stiles.”

  
“You gotta hear this.” Stiles picked up the one book he’d left on his desk, and then flipped to a random page, “‘Change can be caused by _anger_ or anything that raises your pulse,’ alright?! You gotta cancel this date!” Alright, time to piss Scott off. To calm himself, or prove it to Scott. He went to Scott’s bag, and started rifling through it. “You gotta call her _right now_!”

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, obviously annoyed.

 

“I’m canceling the date--”

 

“No, GIVE IT TO ME!” Scott screamed, slamming Stiles against a wall, his fist poised to collide with his face. Stiles stared at his friend, who then shoved over a chair instead. He backed off of Stiles, a look of surprise and guilt on his face. “I…..I’m sorry. I-I gotta go get ready f-for that….party.” He picked up his bag, and then walked to the door. He turned to Stiles once more, “I’m sorry.” He then walked out of the door.

 

Stiles banged his head against the wall in frustration. What was he supposed to do? He walked over to the desk chair and picked it up. What he saw made him lose all hope.

 

_Claw marks._

* * *

Stiles paced back and forth, chewing on his bottom lip. Alright, Scott; his werewolf best friend, was going to a party that he wasn’t invited to and was most likely going to ‘shift’ and kill somebody. He had to keep that from happening.

 

He had a major flashback to when he was ten. Dean taught him how to sneak into places.

 

                                                                                                                ***

_“Listen, kid. The best way to fit in in a place you don’t belong? Make it look like you **do** belong. Walk around like you own the place.” Dean Winchester told his nephew, kneeling down to be at exact eye-level with him._

__

_“Really?” The innocent child asked, batting his eyes. “That easy?”_

__

_“Yep, that easy. People don’t question what seems right.”_

__

_“DEAN. You better not be teaching my son bad things….AGAIN!” Sam called from the other room. Both Dean and Stiles burst out laughing._

_***_

 

He smirked, pulling out a nice shirt and some pants. This’d be a piece of cake. Or, as Dean would say, _piece of pie._

* * *

Stiles slipped into the party, easily. He grabbed a cup, to blend in, and found a place to squeeze in by the window. He looked out, and up at the full moon, anxiously. Any minute now, Scott was gonna go all werewolf.

Someone struck up a conversation with him, and Stiles of course, talked to them. It was a boy with blonde hair, and sparkling, brown eyes. He wished he could pay more attention, because this boy seemed pretty cool. Somehow, they both ended up exchanging numbers.

Right after that, Scott stumbled by. He didn’t look okay at all.  Well, that actually took longer than Stiles expected. He reached out with his hand, laying it on Scott’s shoulder, “Yo, Scott, you good?”

Scott shook his hand off, and ran out to his car. Stiles excused himself from the conversation he was in before, and ran outside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Allison talking to Derek Hale. How he got there; he didn’t know and didn’t care. Instead, he climbed into his jeep, and started driving to Scott’s house.

 

* * *

 

The mini Winchester got to his best friend’s house in record time by ignoring the speed limit and driving as fast as possible. He climbed out of his jeep and ran to the front door. Locked. He bent down and swiftly picked the lock. He _really_ needed a key.

After getting himself inside, he sprinted up the stairs. He ran through the hallway, making it to his best friend’s room. That door was locked too. He started knocking, his body tensing. He heard Scott call “Go away!” from inside the room.

 

“Scott! It’s me!” He called, hoping that Scott would let him in. _Please let me in_ , he pleaded inside his mind. The door started to open, but to Stiles’ dismay, didn’t open more than halfway. “Let me in, Scott! I can help!” He was begging. He knew he could help. He was a friggin’ Winchester, he could do anything.

 

“No! Listen, you gotta find Allison!” Scott’s voice was muffled from the incisors, but Stiles could still clearly hear the worried tone.

 

“She’s fine, alright? I saw get a ride home from the party. She’s totally fine, alright?” Honestly? Stiles didn’t give a crap about Allison. He just wanted Scott to be okay.

 

“No, I think I know who it is!”

 

Stiles attempted to force the door open more. He couldn’t. “Wh-- Just let me in! We can--”

 

Scott cut the pleading teen off, “It’s Derek! Derek Hale’s the werewolf! He’s the one that bit me, he’s the one that killed the girl in the woods!”

 

Stiles’ heart froze in his chest. Stupid, stupid! In his attempts to protect Scott he totally forgot about everyone else. The _other werewolf_ that had to be here to turn Scott. His voice turned soft, and he stuttered out, “Scott…..Derek’s the one who drove Allison from the party.”

 

 

The door slammed shut. Stiles growled, and started slamming his hands on the door frantically. “SCOTT?!” He yelled, pounding on the door.

After a minute, he gave up. He spun around, and sprinted down the stairs. He was a Winchester, his job was to protect people. He needs to go see Allison. Make sure she got home safe, and if she didn’t, he had to find her. Then, he could deal with Scott.

He burst out the front door, sprinting to his jeep. He put the key in the ignition, listening to the car groan to life. His hand ventured under his seat and grabbed the gun put there _‘just in case, Stiles. Don’t touch it unless it’s really an emergency’_. He concealed the weapon and breathed in deep.

 

Stomping on the gas pedal, he started speeding toward the Argent household. _Go, go, go. Keep going. Don’t stop_ , his mind screamed at him. When he arrived at his destination, he ran up to the front door, knocking urgently.

 

 

******  
**

A middle-aged woman with firey, short, red hair opened the door. Stiles started spouting off words, and he just couldn’t stop. “Hi! Mrs. Argent! Um, you have no idea who I am. I’m a friend of your daughter’s. Look, uh, this is gonna sound kinda crazy. _Really_ crazy, actually. You know what, crazy doesn’t even describe--”

****  
  


He was cut off when the woman turned around and shouted up the stairs, “ALLISON! It’s for you!”

 

The girl he was looking for showed up at the top of the stairs, and Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. His stupidity didn’t get anybody killed.

* * *

After some stuttered explanations, and apologies, Stiles made his way back to his jeep. He put the gun back in its place, and rested his head back against the seat, shutting his eyes. He took in a deep breath, letting it out shakily.

 

His phone ringing loudly startled him out of his relaxation. As Smooth Criminal blasted through his car, Stiles fumbled around with his pockets. He got his phone out after a minute, and he blindly pressed the ‘answer’ button. “Hello?” He said, after putting the phone to his ear.

 

“Hey, mini-moose!” His father’s voice came through the other end, “I gotta tell ya somethin’, kiddo.”

 

“What is it, dad?” Stiles asked with a sigh, starting the car, “You finally pick up a guy?”

 

“A guy?” Sam replied, “I like girls, you idiot. But, no, that’s not it. Uh…” Then the sound of the phone being ripped out of someone’s hand.

 

“Alright kid,” Dean’s voice had replaced his dad’s now, “There’re some other hunters rollin’ into town. We don’ know what for, so we need ya to hang tight, and not do anythin’ stupid. We’ll be wrappin’ up this gig and headin’ home. I’ll give ya back to Sammy now.”

 

There was a moment of silence, and then Sam got back on the line. “Alright, gonna head to bed now. I love you.” Dad always took the time to remind Stiles how much he was loved. The reason being, there was always a chance he’d never be able to say it again.

 

“You too.” Stiles then hung up the phone, sighing. Something stupid? Like trying to protect a werewolf? Ha, he’d never.

 

* * *

After a sleepless night, Stiles finally started driving around the preserve, looking for Scott. Eventually, he pulled up next to the shirtless boy, who was cradling his arm close to him. He came to a complete stop, and opened the door to allow him to climb in.

 

When he did so, Stiles reached for a blanket, and draped it around his friend’s shoulders. He then started driving again, letting Scott look out of the window.

 

They drove in silence for several minutes, before Scott finally said, “You know what actually worries me the most?”

 

Stiles rose his eyebrows, and sighed, “If you say Allison, I’m gonna punch you in the head.”

 

“She probably hates me now.” Scott whined, leaning against the window.

 

“I doubt that. But, you probably should come up with a pretty amazing apology. Or, you know, you could tell her the truth and revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you’re a _freaking werewolf._ ” When Scott gave him a look, Stiles sighed. It wasn’t awesome, they both knew it. “Okay, bad idea.” He looked at Scott’s sad face, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, c’mon. We’ll get through this. If I have to, I’ll chain you up  myself on full moon nights and feed you live mice. I had a boa once, I could do it.”

 

Scott snorted slightly, and Stiles let out a small smile. They drove in silence all the way to Scott’s house, where Stiles dropped him off. He then turned his vehicle around, heading to home. Dad and Dean were coming home soon, he had to be home when they did.

 

* * *

 

Stiles sat on the couch, staring at the door. Any minute now.

 

 

When the door burst open, he felt relief flood through him. He always did. His family returning home after being stupidly dangerous always made him calm down. He stood up, and ran straight into his dad’s arms. Sam’s arms encase his son in a tight hug. “Stiles? Stiles, what’s wrong?” He wasn’t given a response, just silence. “Stiles? Stiles, c'mon. Talk to daddy.”

 

 

 

 

  _ **To be**_ **continued.**

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Alright, sorry for the long ass wait. I got sick, then I hurt my wrist and couldn't type to save my life. 
> 
> Also, I apologize for kinda rushing the lacrosse scenes, I don't know a thing about the sport. If anyone has tips for how to write it by one of the games? Please let me know. (Which may or may not be very soon). 
> 
> Alright, another thing! I wish to get on a schedule sort of so this kinda wait doesn't happen again. (I'll try to keep myself a few chapters ahead in case I get sick and/or hurt again.) So, you have a day when I should post this? Let me know in the comments. I'll give you all until next....Wednesday to decide, then I will via randomizer.
> 
> Thank you all for being patient. I hope you will never have to wait this long again!
> 
> ~E
> 
> [Websites I used for the research part: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lycaon_(Arcadia)  
> http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=wolfsbane&defid=5212157 [The second entry of it]  
> http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Silver_bullet
> 
> I'm aware that Wiki and urban dictionary are unreliable. As does Stiles. He and I are using it for convenience.]


End file.
